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| − | <td valign="top">[[Image: | + | <td valign="top">[[Image:MoA_Namor.png|left]]'''Moment of Awesome - [[Namor]]''' |
| − | + | ''[[It’s Greek To Me|Pondering an ancient Atlantean device]], [http://x-logs.livejournal.com/3806556.html Namor employs percussive maintenance], with surprising results.'' | |
| − | + | The resident stupid Atlantean in the room wasn't participating in said conversation or lunch bonding, but had instead elected to stare daggers at the device as if the intensity of his gaze could be harnessed as an effective power source. There were many things that scowl could inspire to action, but apparently ancient technology was not one of them. | |
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| + | "You all are making this too complicated," he mumbled in a manner that combined both disdain and loathing into a cocktail of thought that was only ruined by the fact that Namor's voice had none of its usual confidence. | ||
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| + | Tilting her head curiously at Namor, Molly shrugged and went back to eating her lunch. "What about putting it in water? Maybe it's like a Harry Potter thing where it only works in water?" | ||
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| + | "Tried it already," Clint said. That'd been a particularly desperate move the night before, actually. "I think, despite whatever vibes you're getting, Namor, this thing is just non-functional." | ||
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| + | CLANG. | ||
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| + | The sound reverberated throughout the room, and the John Hughes cast assembled to deal with this problem collectively turned to survey a tableau of Namor, trident in hand, poised over a now slightly dented priceless artifact. The king had apparently decided to cut out any complexity in favor of brute force. | ||
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| + | He shrugged. "What? You people do this all the time with your technology. I have seen this on your television." | ||
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| + | Yet before anyone could openly regret exposing Namor to slapstick comedy, another — albeit softer — sound filled the room as the mechanism's cogs began to rotate. In the space of a breath, the soft, mechanical click click of operational clockwork doubled and tripled into a steady buzz and a feeling of pressure built up in the room so quickly that it popped ears. | ||
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| + | Namor, for his part, plastered on the most shit-eating grin he could manage. Yet before he could openly narrate the superiority of his genius, all of that pressure suddenly faded as a tiny, shimmering hole in reality opened above the ancient device. | ||
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Latest revision as of 20:50, 19 September 2015
 Pondering an ancient Atlantean device, Namor employs percussive maintenance, with surprising results. The resident stupid Atlantean in the room wasn't participating in said conversation or lunch bonding, but had instead elected to stare daggers at the device as if the intensity of his gaze could be harnessed as an effective power source. There were many things that scowl could inspire to action, but apparently ancient technology was not one of them. "You all are making this too complicated," he mumbled in a manner that combined both disdain and loathing into a cocktail of thought that was only ruined by the fact that Namor's voice had none of its usual confidence. Tilting her head curiously at Namor, Molly shrugged and went back to eating her lunch. "What about putting it in water? Maybe it's like a Harry Potter thing where it only works in water?" "Tried it already," Clint said. That'd been a particularly desperate move the night before, actually. "I think, despite whatever vibes you're getting, Namor, this thing is just non-functional." CLANG. The sound reverberated throughout the room, and the John Hughes cast assembled to deal with this problem collectively turned to survey a tableau of Namor, trident in hand, poised over a now slightly dented priceless artifact. The king had apparently decided to cut out any complexity in favor of brute force. He shrugged. "What? You people do this all the time with your technology. I have seen this on your television." Yet before anyone could openly regret exposing Namor to slapstick comedy, another — albeit softer — sound filled the room as the mechanism's cogs began to rotate. In the space of a breath, the soft, mechanical click click of operational clockwork doubled and tripled into a steady buzz and a feeling of pressure built up in the room so quickly that it popped ears. Namor, for his part, plastered on the most shit-eating grin he could manage. Yet before he could openly narrate the superiority of his genius, all of that pressure suddenly faded as a tiny, shimmering hole in reality opened above the ancient device. |
